<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Give Him What He Wants by smutgusher</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045128">Give Him What He Wants</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutgusher/pseuds/smutgusher'>smutgusher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Great Pretender (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Case 1 Spoilers, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Somnophilia, Spit As Lube</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:15:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutgusher/pseuds/smutgusher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a deep LA night, Makoto tries to fend off Laurent’s drunken advances.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>525</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Give Him What He Wants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
    Laurent was drunk, fast asleep in the back of the car and clinging to
    Makoto like a stuffed bear. And Makoto was not in the least happy about
    this.
</p><p>
    “Get <em>off,</em>” he muttered angrily, pushing away Laurent’s unconscious
    attempts to snuggle under his chin. He glanced up at the driver, whose eyes
    were determinedly focused on the dark highway. Thank God.
</p><p>
    But a hand slipped under his shirt, the arm curling around his chest,
    pulling Makoto into a snake-like grip.
</p><p>
    “Edamame…” Laurent sighed into the clothes of his victim.
</p><p>
    Makoto scowled. He knew it would be impossible to move him away without
    starting a fight, and he just didn’t want to deal with that.
</p><p>
    The car turned off the freeway and down to street level. The engine clicked
    off as the car slowed down, the quiet crunch of the wheels and the
    barely-present whine of the electric engine becoming the only sounds in the
    car not made by its inhabitants. Makoto just leaned his head against the
    window and stared out.
</p><p>
    Row after row of store, tenement building, home swept by, a welcome
    distraction from the fingers digging into his chest. A blink of the eye
    later, the car pulled in by the bright white sign of their cut-rate hotel,
    and came to a stop.
</p><p>
    Makoto sighed and opened the door, pulling away from Laurent’s embrace. The
    Frenchman groaned and mumbled as his grip was broken.
</p><p>
    “Come <em>on, </em>Laurent.” Makoto griped, but it didn’t stir the sleeping
    man. So with reluctance, he slipped his arms under the Laurent’s shoulders
    and dragged him out the vehicle, slamming the door closed with a twist of
    his hips.
</p><p>
    That <em>did</em> make him stir a little, enough to mumble something in
    French and to steady him on his feet. Makoto slipped his arm under the
    drunk man’s shoulder and gingerly walked him up the stairs, up onto the
    balcony, and into their room.
</p><p>
    He dropped Laurent on one of the two double beds unceremoniously, throwing
    off his shirt and kicking off his pants, before falling onto the other bed.
</p><p>
    He blacked out before he hit the sheets.
</p>
<hr/><p>
    Makoto woke up to the smell of booze, and an intense pressure on his back
    and neck. He twisted his head around, and he didn’t need his glasses to see
    where it was coming from.
</p><p>
    An almost entirely naked Laurent was hugging him from behind, sighing into his
    shoulder, grinding against him. Something soft and firm was digging into
    his back, and he <em>knew</em> what it was.
</p><p>
    Truth be told, for as much of a bastard he wanted to be, Makoto was too
    nice. So even in his attempts to reject the advance of the unconscious
    horny Frenchman consisted of weak attempts to shrug off his embrace,
    twisting in his grip to move back from Laurent’s… <em>yeah.</em>
</p><p>
    The air conditioner did nothing to dissipate the heat of their bodies, and
    Makoto was just in his boxers. While his mind raced to work out how to
    wriggle and squirm away from Laurent, a stray thought crossed by.
</p><p>
    Well, not a thought. A memory. Something Cynthia said off-hand, when he was
    fighting to break free from a similar kind of hug.
</p><p>
    “Just give him what he wants,” she said, swirling the wine in her glass and
    looking on in amusement.
</p><p>
    Now he’s thinking about it, maybe that wine blush was hiding a different
    look.
</p><p>
    <em>…No! </em>This irritating man, he wanted <em>nothing</em> from him! He
    was going to get on the plane tomorrow, fly home to Japan, and move on with
    his life. Laurent belonged in his <em>past.</em>
</p><p>
    He sighed.
</p><p>
    He wasn’t getting out of this.
</p><p>
    And no matter how much he filled his mind with furious denial, he squeezed
    his hips together and felt what was between them, refusing to go down.
</p><p>
    Yeah. Just like Laurent, the barely-conscious drunk breathing down his neck
    and crooning sweet nothings in a language he couldn’t understand, he was
    hard as a rock.
</p><p>
    His arms were sort of pinned to his sides, but he could still move them
    around a little. Just enough to slip his hands into his pants and clutch at
    himself, hoping the pressure would relieve his hardness somehow.
</p><p>
    But actually touching his erection, with his actual hands, was a huge
    mistake. A pent-up release of <em>filthy</em> thoughts burst like a dam in
    his mind, rewinding through their every interaction like they were going
    back through time. Every wink, every smirk, every touch, oh <em>god. </em>
    Fingers in his mouth, getting <em>railed </em>over a balcony, he wanted
    Laurent to lick him, to nibble him, pop him open like a bean pod and ea-
</p><p>
    “<em>Fuck!” </em>he hissed, grinding back on Laurent’s cock. He needed him.
    Fuck denial, fuck <em>thinking.</em> He just needed Laurent inside him
    right <em>fucking </em>now-
</p><p>
    He slipped his boxers down, grabbing Laurent’s persistent hardness and
    squeezing it through his pants in the process. It was a fussy job freeing
    the half-conscious man’s cock from his pants with one hand behind his back,
    but he managed it.
</p><p>
    “Mmm, Edamame…” Laurent mumbled, and inhaled a huge sniff of the twink’s
    sweaty body in the most exaggerated, cartoonish way possible.
</p><p>
    With just his fingers, Makoto maneuvered Laurent’s shaft against his hole.
    He brought a hand to his face and spat into it, twisting the saliva between
    his fingers and moving the hand behind him, slicking him up.
</p><p>
    <em>Deep breaths.</em>
    He inhaled and exhaled and tried to relax, but his heart was beating a
    thousand times a second and he was <em>shaking, </em>taking low, short
    breaths between every big one. His mind was almost empty, sheer horny need
    pushing aside all his usual anxieties.
</p><p>
    He could feel it. He could picture it in his mind, the tip of Laurent’s
    cock nudging against his hole. He needed it inside him. He needed it, he
    needed it, he-
</p><p>
    With a barely perceptible shift, it slid in.
</p><p>
    Makoto let out a groan, shifting his hips around his own unserviced boner
    in response to the utterly wanted intrusion.
</p><p>
    <em>He needed it, he needed it…</em>
</p><p>
    He pushed back a little, guiding it further in. The arm around his chest
    tightened even more than he thought it could, locking him completely into
    place.
</p><p>
    They huffed sharp breaths in the dry air. Makoto bit his lip and ground
    into the cock, forcing in the remainder of the head. The sharp pain on
    entry forced the room into an imagined focus, considering he couldn’t see
    without his glasses.
</p><p>
    He hyperventilated, holding the head in the ring of his ass, willing the
    pain radiating from his backside to just leave him be. He could feel his
    cock flexing in the cold air. Leaking.
</p><p>
    Yet, even in his state, all Laurent appeared to be doing was letting his
    hands wander around Makoto’s chest. He wiggled the head of his cock around
    in the slender little man’s hole, but left only the hint of pushing deeper
    inside.
</p><p>
    <em>...but this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? </em>
    Edamura realized.
</p><p>
    He could pull out, heave that arm off his chest and bolt into the bathroom,
    but… he was <em>used </em>to the feeling of Laurent inside him now. He… he
    could…
</p><p>
    Makoto pushed back on that shaft.
</p><p>
    “My… my little…” Laurent groaned into his shoulder, his cock sliding in
    deeper, millimeter by millimeter. Makoto gritted his teeth and kept going,
    pressing more and more of the man into him. It had been years since he had
    slept with a man, but his experience was returning to him, little by
    little.
</p><p>
    Somehow, he had reached the halfway point, and that’s where he stopped,
    just enjoying the feel of it.
</p><p>
    “Ah, so good…”
</p><p>
    Laurent pulled off to the tip and thrust into Makoto, extracting a moan. He
    shifted his grip on the slender twink, stroking his cheek, his mouth, his
    lips… another hand wandered down, pushing the other away, taking over from
    Edamura.
</p><p>
    “Nnnngrh!” he moaned into Laurent’s fingers, which had found their way
    under his teeth, hooking his tongue.
</p><p>
    “My little Edamame…” Laurent murmured into Makoto’s ear, nibbling along the
    lobe. The object of his normally-unwanted affection could still smell the
    booze on his breath, but he just didn’t care anymore.
</p><p>
    He was getting what he wanted.
</p><p>
    And he was so <em>big. </em>Laurent’s cock was hitting him just there, that
    spot he hadn’t touched in years, with every thrust. He just had enough
    presence of mind to wet his fingers and lube the Frenchman’s cock. Laurent
    had held out on him <em>just</em> to the point where he was about to lose
    his self control, and the feeling of the man fucking the <em>hell</em> out
    of him was pulling the last of it away, fiber by fiber.
</p><p>
    The sweat flew off their bodies in the cool air, and Makoto moaned, louder
    and louder until his voice was cracking. He knew he couldn’t fit any more
    of it in, but he pushed back on Laurent’s cock and squeezed, almost like he
    wanted to hold it there, to feel that pressure against his prostate
    forever…
</p><p>
    The Frenchman let out a groan – which, infuriatingly, <em>still</em>
    sounded as beautiful and refined as every other noise he made, even when
    sober. His thrusts shortened, his hands shifted, across Makoto’s chest once
    again, panting like a needy puppy.
</p><p>
    Then with one, two, three strokes, Laurent came inside him. Edamura could
    feel the warmth spreading into him, and there was a <em>lot</em> of it.
    That sent him over the edge too, and his cock bounced from the pressure of
    his own load, spraying across the sheets. Makoto whined in relief between
    choking breaths as he let it all out.
</p><p>
    As soon as he was done, Laurent leaned in close, alcoholic breath filling
    Makoto’s nostrils, and planted a soft kiss on the side of his head. He
    snuggled into the back of the shoulder, and a couple of minutes later,
    began to snore.
</p><p>
    The owner of that shoulder was coming down from his lustful high the whole
    time, but it didn’t slow his heart at all. He couldn’t take in what had
    just happened. He wanted to feel violated, but he just couldn’t muster
    those feelings. Yet, Laurent was <em>drunk, </em>and shouldn’t that mean
    he’d taken advantage of him?
</p><p>
    Laurent’s grip slackened in his deep, drunken blackout sleep, allowing the
    man in his arms to finally wiggle out of his grasp. He stepped into the
    bathroom, closing the door behind him and turning on the light, looking at
    his blurry self through the mirror. He cupped his hands under the faucet
    and splashed cold water onto his face, leaning in to gain an ever-so
    slightly clearer view of himself, before taking a deep breath.
</p><p>
    Edamura Makoto uttered a silent prayer to whoever was listening. He prayed
    that Laurent wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.
</p><p>
    But he knew his luck, and that trademark smug smile flashed across his
    conscious vision.
</p><p>
    Deep down, he knew that wish would not be granted.
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://smutgusher.com">Follow me on Twitter and in other places @ smutgusher.com!</a>
  <br/>
  
</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>